As We Know It
by lynne-monstr
Summary: Germany can't figure out Prussia's obsession with the apocalypse. But when they finally talk, it turns out Prussia's reasoning runs deeper than expected and the answer goes back to the one question Germany's never dared to ask. Prussia/Germany.


Obligatory Apocalypse fic!

* * *

Prussia heaved a great sigh and flopped down on the couch, looking more fainting maiden than former military power. "So what should we do for the end of the world?"

Germany shot a skeptical look over his newspaper from where he sat on the opposite end of their worn couch. A quick shuffle through his memories yielded no indication that his elder brother was scheming again. At least, nothing in particular screamed _world domination_, though Germany knew from experience that that didn't necessarily mean anything. Prussia was often at his most dangerous when he was still and silent. But causing the end of the world seemed extreme, even for him. Prussia enjoyed his modern comforts far too much for that.

Still, this merited further investigation.

"Excuse me?" Germany asked.

Sitting up from the sprawl to sit cross-legged on the wide couch cushion, Prussia shifted around so the two of them were facing each other. He clapped his hands together, a look of childlike glee lighting up his face. "You know, the end of the world. The Twenty-first of December!" Seeing Germany's blank look, he continued. "Come on, West! Get with the times. Open up a website! 21 December, 2012. How should we celebrate the end of the world? It only comes once."

Sighing, Germany folded the paper and set it back down. He obviously wasn't going to get any more reading done.

Ever since he'd been a boy it was always the same. Whenever Prussia got an idea into his head, there was no letting go, and the easiest thing to do was ride it out. "I thought that was happening on the twelfth. And I wasn't aware we had plans for the end of the world."

Prussia let out an exasperated noise. "Come on! Didn't I train you better than this? The twelfth was misinformation, you should know better than to fall for amateur stuff like that." He swept a hand out to one side, like he was wiping some invisible slate clean. "I wanted to do something just me and you. On the twenty-first."

"Such as?"

"Let's blow stuff up!"

Germany stared, not knowing how to respond.

But Prussia didn't seem daunted, pressing on. "You know you miss it. Choosing a target, finding that perfect spot to hit, then rubble and noise and dust and the sound of it all coming down!"

The excitement was infectious, and Germany could admit it was tempting. Proper demolition required precise calculation, perfect planning, and intense attention to detail. All of which were fun. "I can see if the city has anything scheduled," he offered, a slow smile building as he considered the idea further.

"I'll check on my end too!"

Before Germany could ask what that meant, a blur shot across the couch and he found himself with a lapful of pale limbs, his newspaper carelessly shoved to the floor as Prussia leaned over him, thighs clamped around his hips and white hair tickling his nose.

"That isn't playing fair." The admonition turned into a gasp as a hand reached between them.

Prussia leaned in, nipping along his jaw until his lips brushed Germany's ear. "I never do."

There was no more talk of demolition, or the apocalypse.

* * *

The peace didn't last long. Prussia came and went at all hours of the day and night, hands full of what Germany could only determine was some sort of survival gear. He caught a glimpse of a box full of batteries at one point and resolved not to ask any questions. The insanity would surely die down after the new year.

The front door opened and closed, and footsteps echoed down the entranceway.

"I'm ready for the zombie apocalypse." The voice was soon followed by Prussia, dressed casually in jeans and a hideous holiday sweater that peeked out from under his heavy black coat, a massive shotgun by his side. There was a plastic shopping bag dangling from one wrist.

Germany paused, sitting at the table where he was eating breakfast. In the mental checklist in his head, he upgraded Prussia's apocalypse delusion from _worrying_ to _disturbing_. "There's not going to _be_ any apocalypse. And if there was, it wouldn't be a zombie apocalypse. Have you even read at all about this, or are you just making it up as you go along?"

"I know all about the Mayans! The twenty-first is coming, West." Prussia hefted the shotgun over one shoulder, hand on his hip. "Where's your sense of fun?"

"Perhaps it's under the massive pile of paperwork in our office. Care to help me check?"

"Paperwork won't matter once the hoard of infected rise up." Prussia walked up to him and handed him the shotgun and bag. Looking inside, Germany saw it contained several boxes of what he assumed were sufficiently large caliber bullets. "Here take this, you need it more than I do, with that attitude."

He meandered away, and Germany shook his head. But he'd keep the shotgun. Like all the weapons Prussia indulged in, the quality was impeccable.

* * *

The next few days showed no sign of apocalypse-related activity, and Germany began to think the whole thing had blown over. But when Prussia entered the house with his hands full of library books on Mayan civilization, asteroids, and pandemics, his hopes were dashed. The next day it was medical supplies. After that, Prussia had spent an entire day fiddling with an antiquated two-way radio, which Germany had to admit was pretty cool, especially when the two of them finally got the things working.

When the twenty-first dawned, Germany was expecting something massive, had even taken the day off of work to keep an eye on things, visions of coming home to find the house in chaos enough to convince him it was the right move. But there were no antics; Prussia was nowhere to be found. Taking advantage of the unexpected peace, he gathered his notes and papers and, after a satisfying breakfast and a cup of strong coffee, settled in on the couch to get some work done.

He managed to get several productive hours in before noise from the hallway signaled his brother's arrival.

Entering the living room with his usual grin, Prussia draped his winter coat neatly over one of the side chairs, toed off his shoes, and took his favorite spot on the couch (which wasn't actually a seat at all), sprawling lengthwise so that he laid across Germany's lap near the corner, head of white hair resting against the armrest pillow.

Germany's first instinct was to shoo him away, the piles of notes that needed to be revised before Monday flashing across his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to go through with it. For someone with such a passion for warfare and fighting, Prussia could pull off the façade of cute and innocent disturbingly well. Abandoning his agenda to migrate to the study, he surrendered to their familiar routine and worked an arm underneath Prussia's neck and shoulders, lending extra lumbar support so that he'd be more comfortable.

"You make the best pillow, West." A goofy, satisfied smile shone up at him and he couldn't help but smile back.

Prussia shifted on his lap, and Germany nearly jumped out of his skin when something freezing cold settled on his back, underneath his light house-sweater. He arched away with a sharp intake of breath, trying and failing to escape the sensation. But when the chilly something started moving, making gentle stroking motions up and down his back, he realized it was a hand. Prussia's hand, still cold from being outdoors.

A shiver raced along his spine all the way to the base of his neck, the combination of cold fingers and feather light touches. But as his body shared its warmth, the cold soon melted away like it was never there, and Germany slumped bonelessly back against the couch, the stress he'd felt earlier wearing away under Prussia's skilled attentions.

"We can just stay here for the end of the world," Prussia mumbled into his chest, moving to press himself further into Germany's lap, hand traveling to stroke farther up as he got closer.

Lethargy seeped into Germany from the warm body sprawled across his lap and the hypnotic feel of fingers trailing along his spine, marking time with their steady back and forth along his skin. He fought against the tantalizing pull, a sudden need for answers clawing at him. Despite being a steady presence in his life, his older brother had always been somewhat of a mystery. Even now that they were both adults, both equals, there was so much he didn't know, so much that they had never discussed.

Pressed by the unexpected burning need to understand, he asked the question that had been on his mind for weeks. "You don't really believe that garbage, do you? About the world ending today."

Turning his head to meet him, Prussia frowned, deep creases appearing at the corners of his mouth. "Course I don't. It's not my first time around, West. I _am_ the older one, remember. I've seen more apocalypse scares come and go than you've had leaders. Don't treat me like some dumb child."

"I've never thought you were dumb. But I don't understand your fascination with this."

The scowl eased. "That's because you're not looking hard enough."

"I'm trying. You've always been…" he trailed off, free hand coming up to trace a finger around his lips in thought. Half the time he could tell exactly what Prussia was thinking, but the other half, he didn't even know where to start.

His wrist was unexpectedly snatched away, as Prussia pulled it down to his own mouth in a copy of Germany's absentminded gesture.

The thin skin was chapped and pulled tight from the cold weather, and Germany was captivated by every ridge and rough patch as he allowed his finger to be guided along. Slowly, Prussia wrapped his lips around the tip near his fingernail, drawing it inside as his tongue swirled around the pad, taking it deeper until teeth scraped along his knuckle. It was wet—which was expected, and warm to the point of being almost hot—which wasn't. Germany didn't say a word, staring in silence at the display, as Prussia's tongue continued to lavish attention on him.

With one last nip, Prussia led his finger away, staring up at him with hard eyes. "I've always been what?" he challenged, and did he really have to pick _now_ to resume the conversation.

Germany gathered the scattered remains of his thoughts, pushed away the image of those lips wrapped around something else entirely, and focused. "Difficult," he answered, tartly, before bringing his hand back to Prussia's lips, prodding at them until they opened, tracing the now moist lower lip from edge to edge.

Prussia spoke around the intrusion, words coming out just slightly muffled "I'm not dffff—"

The denial was cut short as Germany slipped several fingers into his open mouth. "Don't bite," he said quickly, knowing Prussia well enough to be sure he was on the verge of doing just that. There was something Germany needed to say and he was going to make sure it got heard. As added incentive, he unfurled his fingers to gently stroke Prussia's tongue, warm and soft under his hand.

Whether it was the words, or the soft petting, he didn't know, but it worked. The coiled readiness seeped away from Prussia's shoulders and he sank back into the lazy sprawl across Germany's lap. Finally, red eyes locked with his own and Prussia gave a small nod.

His mission accomplished, Germany moved to withdraw his fingers –it wasn't a very dignified position, for either of them— and stopped. Prussia wasn't protesting, was relaxed even, and there was something strangely intimate about the whole situation. So he continued the light stroking while he gathered his thoughts, losing himself in the simple pleasure of the touch, a distant part of him realizing that Prussia's thumb on his spine had shifted into the same languid rhythm.

The silence stretched on, comfortable and familiar, and Germany was loathe to break it. But eventually, his hand stilled, though he didn't withdraw it, and he picked up the thread of their discussion. "You _are_ difficult," he started, hesitant words coming faster as he gained confidence.

"You're headstrong, and violent, and rarely take advice. It gets you into trouble, and you never seem to learn. You've made it clear that you don't much care for the twenty-first century. But I also know how hard you work to keep up with everything."

Germany could feel Prussia's mouth tense, and pressed down on his tongue to stifle any protest. "I'm not done."

Prussia frowned around his hand, and Germany knew time was running out before he would either get interrupted or bitten.

"But what I meant was that you're difficult to read. You keep so much inside, unsaid, and I never know what's in your head half the time." He sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that I do make an effort to understand you. I _am_ looking. But I need you to meet me halfway."

Having said what he wanted, he withdrew his fingers. They were cold, chilled from the first touch of air. And wet. He moved to wipe them on Prussia's bulky sweater (thankfully not another holiday abomination this time) seeing as it was his mouth responsible for the wet fingers.

"Don't even think about it."

The sharp order stopped Germany in his tracks.

Prussia laughed. "Here, give me," he said, and took hold of Germany's hand once again, sucking on his fingers like some determined child with a popsicle. When he was done, they were still wet, but not nearly as bad. Prussia let go with a satisfied little noise. "There. It'll dry soon enough."

For once Germany didn't protest. He would wash his hands later, and Prussia was correct about the speedy drying. There was a reason they kept actual lubrication in the bedroom, after all.

Prussia continued like the interruption had never happened. "You're not exactly a shining model of easy-to-live-with, yourself, West."

"I'm aware. You're not the first person to make that observation."

Teeth worried at his lower lip, and Prussia shrugged. "So, I'm difficult, or whatever. Fuck it. You love me anyway."

Germany rested his mostly dry hand on Prussia's chest and smiled, leaning down to brush their lips together. "Yes, I do," he whispered, lips hovering a hairsbreadth apart. He felt a hand on the back of his neck as Prussia pulled him back down for another kiss, harder this time, lips parted and tongues sweeping across each other's mouths.

Sighing contentedly into this kiss, Germany reached up to stroke along Prussia's jaw. But after a moment, he paused.

Something felt wrong, like a painting hung just off-center. Not with the kiss, that was nice, but there was something else. With a last nip to Prussia's lip, Germany sat back up, studying Prussia intently. His slightly puffy lips; the lazy smile; his fingers still resting against Germany's back.

It struck him then, a part of what was bothering him. Prussia was being unusually compliant this afternoon, a sure sign that something was weighing on his mind. Though Germany didn't normally subscribe to hunches and gut feelings, he was suddenly convinced that whatever it was, was somehow at the heart of the strange wrongness he'd felt. And that it was tied into all of the December twenty-first nonsense.

So he pressed his earlier question. "I still don't understand. This apocalypse thing. If you know it's not real, why are you making such a big deal of it?"

There was no answer, and Germany began to think he wasn't getting one, that this would be yet another strange occurrence to be filed with the rest. Nothing but a footnote of the things he would never decipher about the nation who raised him.

The answer, when it came, startled Germany out of his reverie.

"Because…just for a moment, wouldn't it fun if it were true?" The words were both boisterous and longing, and completely unexpected.

Germany blinked, not sure what to make of that, and took a closer look, trying to puzzle out the meaning.

It was a trick of the light, it had to be, how Prussia's eyes actually grew brighter, as if giving form and color to the excitement in his voice. Germany had never dwelled on his brother's unusual features in the past – many of the other nations had eye colors not completely natural to humans; that's just the way it was. But he couldn't help but think that the deep blood red of Prussia's eyes was aptly fitting for him. Prussia came alive in battle in a way he did nowhere else. Not for the first time, Germany wondered what that was like, to love something so much and have it taken away forever.

"One last battle, is that it?" he asked, knowing he was right.

A wistful smile crossed Prussia's face. "It would be fucking beautiful."

"It would be horrible." It was true that he missed the intensity of fighting, the sheer rush of pitting his strength against an opponent. But he liked the peace and security he'd worked so hard for. He'd lost his taste for war.

"Well, yeah, that too. But at least I'd…" Prussia trailed off, looking away.

It hit Germany, then. What his brother wasn't saying. "You'd go down fighting," Germany finished for him, stomach churning as he said it. Was Prussia that afraid of fading away, that miserable in the modern day, that the world ending was a more preferable fantasy?

Prussia didn't turn to look at him, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

He cupped Prussia's jaw, gently turned it until their eyes met. "That's what you were going to say, isn't it. Is that what this is about? That's what you really want?"

"It's all I ever wanted."

It was Germany who looked away this time. "I was hoping—" his breath hitched, nervousness fluttering in his throat. Pressing his lips tightly together, he swallowed it down. "I know that I'm no replacement for what you lost. But I was hoping that—that being here, with me…that maybe it was enough?"

The question hung heavy in the air and Germany wished he could take it back, shove the words back inside so they wouldn't have to talk about this. So he wouldn't have to hear the answer to the question he'd been avoiding for so long. He stared into the distance, eyes tracing the tiny cracks in the ceiling, not wanting to see whatever was on Prussia's face.

The weight on his legs lifted as Prussia sat up to sit beside him. "Look at me, West."

It was hard, like swimming through tar, but he did it.

"Yeah, I miss it." The shine was back in Prussia's eyes, but different this time, not just a figment of imagination now. "But if I could go back and change things, I wouldn't." He gave a small smile and pushed at Germany's arm. "Look at you, big strong fucking country. All grown up and—"

"I've been grown up for some time, now," Germany couldn't help but add, the edges of his mouth sneaking upwards, chipping away at the ball of dread that had taken up residence in his stomach.

"Details. Sheesh, you're ruining my moment, here." Prussia waved a hand, but there was a softness in his eyes that Germany rarely saw on him. "My point is, that I wouldn't change it, because I wouldn't risk things turning out differently. I wouldn't risk you not being here."

"So this obsession with the apocalypse…"

"I'm not obsessed! It's just cool to talk about. I don't actually want it to happen, dumbass." Prussia shoved at his shoulder again, more affectionate than aggressive. "It's just fun to think about, that's all," he finished, lips set in a short line and chin raised, contrite and defiant all at once.

Germany swallowed, not knowing what to say that wouldn't sound trite. Coming to a decision, he stood from the couch.

"Stay there," he said, and headed hastily to his bedroom. Rummaging around in the closet, he found the small, wrapped object that he was saving for Christmas, and took it down. He could admit that sometimes the best plans were unplanned, and so he grabbed it and headed back to the living room.

He saw with relief that Prussia was still on the couch, nonchalance scrawled across his face, curiosity poorly hidden beneath.

Stomach tense with nerves, he approached, extending the present from behind his back. It was the size of a small book, wrapped simply in matte red paper tied with a neat silver ribbon, colors he'd always associated with his brother, and which were also conveniently suitable for the holiday.

"I was waiting for Christmas, but I thought…" Germany shifted from one foot to the other. What if Prussia didn't like it? Or thought it was silly. Or already had it. "Here. Happy Apocalypse," he finished lamely, thrusting the gift into Prussia's hands.

Instead of taking it, Prussia flew from the couch to engulf him in a massive hug, nearly knocking the air from Germany's lungs. Arms still holding tight, he pitched backward in a controlled fall that dragged both of them onto the couch, twisting at the last moment so that Germany's back hit the soft pillows, and quickly clambered on top of him to straddle his lap and pluck the gift from his hands. Tilting his head, he brought the package to his ear and shook it, frowning when nothing rattled around inside. He looked down at Germany.

"So, if you're giving this to me now, does that mean I'm not getting anything at Christmas?" But he was smiling as he said it, clearly pleased at the turn of events. Prussia had always loved getting presents, no matter the occasion, though Germany suspected it was as much from the extra attention as receiving the gift itself.

Germany scowled at the question, but couldn't keep it up for long for before breaking into a smile. "If you're that concerned, I can take it back," he teased, arms reaching out for the present.

"No way!" Prussia laughed and clutched the small, flat box close to his chest. "You gave it to me. That means it's mine now!" Grin nearly bursting from his face, he ripped the paper off with abandon. And froze.

Germany froze, too, eyes locked on Prussia's unmoving form. What was the proper protocol for this situation? His mind whirred and came up blank, failing him completely. When he'd bought the gift, he had thought that it was clever, but Prussia must have thought he was mocking him. That was the only explanation. He needed to say something, but couldn't think of a single thing.

"Prussia?" he asked, wanting him to say something. Needing him to say something.

"I didn't think you remembered," Prussia said softly, not looking up from the gift in his hands.

Confused, Germany took a peek to make sure he'd brought out the right present, and confirmed there was no mistake. Prussia was holding the game that he'd searched far and wide for: a zombie apocalypse themed video game that was popular enough to have an adequate number of online reviews, but not too popular that Prussia would already own it.

"What do you mean? You've been talking about the apocalypse for weeks."

Prussia shifted his gaze, eyes boring into him. "Yeah, but I only mentioned the zombies once. I'm surprised it stuck, is all. Didn't think you were listening very hard."

Reaching out, Germany grabbed hold of one of his hands, prying it from where he was clutching the video game by both sides, and squeezed gently. "I'm always listening. Even when I have no idea what you're on about."

A smile lit up Prussia's entire face and he threw himself forward so he was lying entirely on top of Germany, the arm not holding the game gripped right in Germany's own. "You should know, now that you got me such an awesome gift, you have to play it with me!"

"So you're not upset?" Germany asked, not completely sure, despite Prussia's words.

"Upset? This game is fucking amazing! I can't wait!" Excited features turned puzzled, Prussia's brow scrunching up in thought. "How did you even know to get this?"

The excitement in his voice was contagious and Germany found himself smiling as well, the last of his doubts put to rest. "Well, I for one knew there wouldn't be a zombie apocalypse, but I didn't want you to be disappointed. And the salesman assured me that the game is very good."

Prussia relaxed against him, scooting backwards so he could use Germany's chest as a pillow. "Thanks, West. You're the best."

Warmth flooded though Germany at the quiet words.

"But really though." Prussia's voice broke the stillness as he raised his head, red eyes boring into him intently. "Am I still getting a Christmas gift?"

"You'll just have to see," he answered, laughing at Prussia's outraged expression.

As far as apocalypses went, this one wasn't half bad.


End file.
